hippos – Educators of Excellence Institutes

“Burnt Toast Theory”

July 31, 2025 - 2 Comments

Burnt toast theory states that minor inconveniences can turn out to be blessings in disguise, and today highlighted this for us.

This morning we started with a much more than minor inconvenience when we arrived to breakfast to find out that it was too windy to go whale watching. This was a bucket list item for almost every one of us, and when it was confirmed that we couldn’t go and that it couldn’t be rescheduled, there were actual tears for some of us. It felt like a major loss.

We pivoted like we have had to do several times on this trip, and went on a bird walk before heading to the beach instead. During our walk I kept waiting for something fun and magical to confirm that missing whales was worth it. And I couldn’t see it. Then we walked down to the beach, put our toes in the sand, collected shells, and tiptoed into the icy Indian Ocean.

How do you explore a new beach and ocean? Synchronized cartwheels in the sand!

Something we’ve noticed about this trip is that we are being required to slow down. Fast food isn’t what we’re used to. Chick-fil-A gets your meal to you with a “my pleasure” in less than 5 minutes. That’s not happening here, as it takes closer to 20. Restaurant service is even longer, and meals come 2-3 at a time. We find ourselves being impatient, trying to speed up processes. Then we talk about it with each other and realize how much we actually ENJOY slowing down. We ask ourselves what it would be like if we stopped rushing when we get home and if we didn’t put so much pressure on ourselves and each other.

Our time is quickly coming to an end and we are all feeling excited to see our families and homes. We are also feeling the pressure of life that awaits us. How can we find the balance of the calm we’ve found here with all that comes with returning home? We’ve watched South African sunrises and sunsets, taken long morning walks with giraffes and coffee, shared dinner with rhinos, and made memories with new friends. We have seen and felt so much here: joy, astonishment, love, fullness, and more that we can’t wait to take back to our families. When we go home we will be spread across the state, hours apart, no longer in dorm style bedrooms, sharing bathrooms and group dinners. We have met people who will now be our best friends, and now we will be apart.

Flavia, Michael, Christine, and Andrew on a windy St. Lucia beach.

Tonight’s sunset happened in the company of a hippo family. I think we can learn something about how to approach going home from them:

“Hippos, despite their size, offer subtle yet powerful lessons on embracing imperfection, finding peace in stillness, and maintaining healthy social bonds”.

Sunset with hippos in iSimangaliso Wetland Park.

Three lessons were impressed upon us as we watched these graceful animals:

Embrace the mud and find comfort in imperfection. Hippos spend much of their time in mud, which represents the messy, imperfect parts of life.
Submerge yourself and find peace in stillness. Hippos are comfortable both in and out of the water, symbolizing the importance of finding moments of peace and quiet in our busy lives.
Know your people and make time with them. Celebrate and protect each other.

Our guides and drivers, Andrew and David, are leaving in the morning. Tonight we spent time reflecting on our highlights with each of them. At the end of the night Andrew said, “magic has happened here.” Each day in South Africa has been magic. We have been so blessed. We didn’t get to see whales today on the boat. But, we got to spend precious time slowing down together. Laughing, eating delicious food, and celebrating each other. We have just a few more days left before we get to bring this magic home. We can’t wait to slow down and share the sunrises and sunsets with you.

South Africa

“Falling into South Africa”

July 22, 2025 - 4 Comments

“You don’t just visit South Africa. You fall into it heart first—so deep and forever I changed.” -unknown

And the adventure begins. After a 15 hour flight and a few hours of sleep we headed off for Kruger National Park. The drive started with a very flat, dry landscape and turned into mountains and a fascinating drive through the park. We left the city for the country.

An important thing to practice before heading into Kruger National Park? Using binoculars!

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It happened before I even made it through the gates.

We stopped on the bridge just outside Kruger National Park, expecting a quick glance, maybe a photo. What I didn’t expect was to feel something crack wide open in me.

The view on one side of the bridge outside Kruger National Park.

Below the bridge, the river wound its way through the dry landscape—wide, slow, and shimmering under the African sun. It was peaceful, but alive. And there, along the shoreline, they appeared—hippos, lounging together in the shallow water and stretched out across the muddy riverbank.

Their huge, rounded forms looked like ancient sculptures, but it was their pink bellies that stopped me. Soft, exposed, glowing faintly in the light—they added this surprising sweetness. They looked oddly content, piled close together in the warm sun completely unbothered by the world. There was something strangely intimate about it.

And then I said it, almost laughing: “Hippopotamus.”

Not like I’d said it before. This time it came out in awe. Like the word itself was part of the magic.

Just beyond them, impala moved gently through the grass—delicate and alert, catching the sun on their sleek coats. Nearby, crocodiles lay motionless, also sunning themselves, their armored backs blending into the riverbank. At first I didn’t even notice them—until I did, and then I couldn’t not see them. They were eerie and fascinating, ancient-looking and incredibly still. The kind of stillness that makes you feel the power just beneath the surface.

Then, as if to balance all that grounded stillness, a fish eagle soared overhead—its wings wide and commanding. In the shallows below, a grey heron waded slowly and purposefully through the water, all grace and patience, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And all of this—all of it—was just from the bridge.

We hadn’t even entered Kruger, and yet I already felt undone. Not in a dramatic, life-flashing-before-my-eyes kind of way. It was gentler than that. More like something inside me recognized this place. Like my heart had been waiting for it.

I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to speak. I just stood there, overwhelmed with gratitude—not just for what I was seeing, but for the fact that I got to be there at all. That, for one fleeting moment, I was a witness to this wild, untouched beauty.

That bridge wasn’t just a crossing point. It was a beginning.

Because you don’t just visit South Africa.

You fall into it—heart first. So deep and so suddenly, you don’t even realize it’s happening until you’ve already changed. Forever, and beautifully, unknown.